


A Jedi's Path

by WordsByChance



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsByChance/pseuds/WordsByChance
Summary: Life is not easy for anyone in the Empire. It's infinitely more difficult for a former Jedi padawan. Dax Sha'dar must come to terms with his past and face his inner demons, all while navigating life under the tyrannical rule of the Galactic Empire.
Kudos: 3





	1. Ghost Stories

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I am in no way affiliated with Disney or Lucasfilm in any capacity, and this is simply a fan project that I’m doing because I love Star Wars so much. Star Wars has brought me immeasurable joy for as long as I can remember, and I aspire to contribute to its universe in some way one day.  
> I had the idea for this story during one of the most difficult periods of my life, so the struggles these characters go through and the themes of the story are deeply personal. But I believe it is important to share not only for my journey of self-healing, but because someone else may be struggling just as much and may need this as much as I do.  
> If you’re reading this, I really appreciate you for taking the time to read my words, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> If you’re struggling with your own demons, I hope this helps you as much as it has helped me. And please, remember that you are loved, that you are never alone in this fight, and that there is always – always – hope.
> 
> May the Force be with you.  
> Chance

The hum of a lightsaber. Brilliant flashes of light as the verdant blade deflected countless blue streaks coming from almost every direction. The thunderous sounds of war. The pounding of a heartbeat inside his head. The ringing in his ears. The silence was deafening.

“GO! Save yourself! Trust in the Force, my padawan…”

Another terrible flash of light, and Dax Sha’dar sat straight up on his bed, breathing hard and drenched in a cold sweat.

Although 19 long years had passed since the end of the Clone Wars and the Jedi Order, Dax was still haunted by the ghosts of his past. He was 16 when he watched his master fall to the clone troopers they had fought beside on Devaron, but he could remember Guil Kano’s last words as if it were yesterday: “Trust in the Force, my padawan.”

 _The Force… What a joke_ , he thought. What Force could possibly justify the state of the galaxy since the fall of the Jedi? How could the Jedi Order have been so blind? What chance did they have against an enemy so familiar, yet so elusive; so absolutely evil, yet so charismatic and admired; so few in number, yet so powerful? What good was hope against a power so devastatingly malevolent? What good was the Force?

Dax tried his best to keep these thoughts, these memories to a minimum – often with the help of whatever intoxicating drink he could get his hands on. Tonight was no different.

Was it the healthiest way to deal with his problems? Absolutely not, but it certainly helped him hide from the might of the Empire all these years, so he took that as a positive. Besides, after a while, he grew to like the taste. And who would care if he drank his life away? All of his “family” were long dead. In the grand scheme of things, Dax viewed himself as just one more miserable soul on this miserable planet, in this miserable galaxy.

As his drink started to work its magic and his nerves calmed, Dax felt he could finally sleep a dreamless sleep until the morning. He had another day ahead of working the docks of Delphon City to make ends meet until he could afford to jump to another system. This was the way he lived for the last 19 years, and this was most likely how he would spend the remainder of his life, however long or short that may be – at least in his mind.

* * *

“Good morning, Delphon City! And what a glorious day for our Empire,” an extremely cheerful voice said as the viewscreen in Dax’s tiny, one-bedroom apartment crackled to life. “Today, you can expect mostly clear skies with only a 15 percent chance of rain. Temperatures remain moderate, so it looks like it’s going to be another beautiful day in the city.”

“In galactic news, attacks by rebel extremists in the Jedha system continue to terrorize Imperial citizens,” another voice chimed in. “Our Emperor has sent in some of his best troops to Jedha City in order to combat these attacks and restore peace and prosperity to the area.

“The Imperial Security Bureau would like to reassure the citizens of our great Empire that these rebel attacks remain isolated, and that rumors of any organized rebellion are strictly that – rumors. However, the ISB encourages any citizen that has information that may lead to the capture of rebel dissidents to contact local Imperial authorities immediately.”

“It’s a damned shame that anyone could harbor that much hate in their heart for our beloved Emperor, you know,” said the first voice.

At that, Dax had had enough of the morning news brief from the Imperial Holonet. “Yeah... A damned shame,” he muttered as he shut off the viewscreen and pulled himself from his bed.

 _How could anyone hate our **beloved** Emperor?_ he thought as he dressed for the day. _How could anyone hate the man who ordered the genocide of the Jedi Order – the peacekeepers of the galaxy for over a thousand generations, defenders of hope, freedom, and prosperity, a beacon of light in the darkness, and **traitors** to the Galactic Republic?_

Dax felt his fist clench. Hate was such a strong emotion that he’d been taught to avoid as a Jedi padawan. The Dark Side of the Force was rooted in fear, anger, hate, and suffering – the things the Empire seemed to excel at. But that was a long time ago. He had no faith in the Force or the teachings of the Jedi. In fact, he had cut himself off from the Force years ago. He was tired of feeling. It was the reason he was still alive as far as he was concerned.

He also attributed his survival to the fact that he never stayed in one system for too long. It was a good habit to have when the Empire actively wanted you dead – Jedi or not.

Delphon was a bit different. Because of its largely human population and being a bustling trade hub, he could work and go absolutely unnoticed. He’d been here about a year now and had had no trouble and no questions asked. Still, he felt it was almost time to find another system to disappear to. Other than his employers, no one would miss him. He still wasn't too sure if they would notice either.

* * *

“Put your back into it,” the Toydarian supervisor sneered as Dax lifted another crate, sweat glistening on his tan skin. “It’s not like it’s that heavy. If you can’t do it, there are plenty of other street rats that would be happy to give it a go.”

Fatigued and annoyed, Dax blew his long black hair out of his eyes as best he could. Of course, he didn’t retort. After all, he wasn’t the only worker hauling crates to and from the spaceport docking bays, and he knew these supervisors talked to all the workers like this. He also had only a few more minutes left of his shift. Then he could go to the local cantina and have a few drinks before shuffling home, polishing off a few more drinks, and going to bed.

Sort of a daily routine for him on Delphon. The cantina was really the only place he half enjoyed going to on this miserable planet. While Delphon had its advantages for those who didn’t want to be found, the planet was still under the boot of the Empire, and that was enough to make any place miserable. But no one dared speak out or give even the smallest impression of dissent, or the ISB would be breaching their doors before you knew it, and they would be spending the rest of their short, miserable life enslaved at one of the fabled Imperial labor camps, never to be seen or heard from again. And Dax knew that if he were ever caught, his fate would be a whole lot worse than a visit from the ISB.

As Dax sat the last of the cargo crates on a freight hauler, the long, low tone of the spaceport horn let him know that his shift was over, and he could finally leave.

“I expect you all here on time tomorrow,” the Toydarian flapped angrily. “Next time you’re late, you’ll all pay for it!”

“We were all on time today, though,” Dax said, imploringly.

“Yes, well, early is on time, and on time is late,” the Toydarian said with a nasty grin.

Dax just shrugged and walked out of the docking bay. He could feel the Toydarian’s eyes burrowing through the back of his skull, but he didn’t much care. He knew the Toydarian didn’t like him, but then again, he didn’t seem to like anyone. Besides, the feeling was mutual.

Just a short walk later, Dax found himself entering the local watering hole and crashing into the cushioned booth in the far corner, as was his customary spot. It was the first time he had sat down since he’d left the apartment that morning, so he closed his eyes as the pressure in his feet melted and was replaced by the slow, dull throbbing he was accustomed to at the end of the day.

“What’ll it be, honey,” the server droid asked in a strangely comforting, feminine tone as it wheeled up beside the booth. For a brief moment, Dax was reminded of a little diner on Coruscant with a similar server droid.

“Give me the strongest drink you’ve got for the least amount of credits,” he said without hesitation.

“How about an Outer Rim?” the droid asked.

“Fine,” Dax said.

The server droid returned moments later with the drink, and Dax spent the next few minutes sipping silently in corner, listening to the chatter around the crowded bar. Every now and then, he could hear a story about who had been snatched by the ISB or talk of current events in other systems. Frequently, freighter pilots would stop by the cantina to drink and gossip, and this was often how Dax determined what system he wanted to jump to next.

“You heard about Jedha City? That place is a war zone,” he heard an Ardennian say.

“Yeah, but I heard on the Holonet today that the Empire was sending in one of the big cruisers. It won’t be long before the place is cleaned up,” replied a Twi’lek.

“Please,” the Ardennian said in a vaguely cynical tone. “Have you ever been to Jedha? Even with a battalion of troops, they’re going to have quite a fight on their hands. Rumor is that’s where Saw Gerrara is holed up, and you know the Empire’s been after him for years.”

“Careful, now,” the Twi’lek replied in a hushed voice. “You don’t want to end up like that guy we saw get dragged out of his home by Stormtroopers earlier, do you? It’s a real shame they had to do that in front of the kid, too.”

“Yeah… I’m just surprised they didn’t take the whole family, to be honest,” said the Ardennian. “Look, I don’t mean that in a bad way, you know? I just know that those rebels are mean, and they’ll do whatever it takes to stick it to the Empire, regardless of the cost.”

“I know you do,” said the Twi’lek, “but you never know who might be listening and how they’ll take it. You’ve got to be more careful with your words – especially while we’re in a place like this.”

“You’re right,” said the Ardennian. “May need to quit drinking while I can still hold my tongue,” he joked.

“Now, you don’t have to do that,” chuckled the Twi’lek before the two clinked their glasses together and finishing what was left of their drinks.

Jedha City – it had been a very long time since Dax had thought about that place. He hadn’t seen it since he was but a youngling when Master Kano first took him under his wing. The city was old – very old. But the temple was even older. He smiled as he remembered the sense of wonder he’d felt when he first walked through the temple doors.

But all of that had changed. From what he gathered between the Holonet and trader gossip over the years, Jedha was a husk of its former self. The Jedi were all gone, the temple in disrepair, and even the temple guardians had become somewhat of a public nuisance. After all, what was the point in guarding an emptied grave?

His smile quickly faded, and he sipped the last bit of his drink before the server droid brought over another. He knew he would normally be annoyed with the droid because he hadn’t asked for another, but he also knew that he would’ve ordered another anyway because the drink was quite good. He figured the droid had come to expect him at this time of day and was counting on that, too. He’d never really come to trust too many droids after the Clone Wars, and it was moments like this that affirmed that feeling.

“The sooner we find another hand to help us out on the Freedom, the sooner we can get back to operating at full capacity _elsewhere_ ,” a woman with a thick drawl said irritably to a Duros and a Rodain a few booths away.

At this, Dax turned his attention toward the conversation. He needed to pay attention to these people in case this turned into an opportunity he wanted to pursue.

“We’ve already got that reprogrammed droid. What more do we need?” the Rodian asked. This Rodian had pale green skin and sort of a skittish look about him. He talked in a very timid tone and seemed easily intimidated by the woman.

“Yeah! The droid’s great for heavy lifting - what else are you looking for?” the Duros chimed in. He had a very distinguishable scar across the right side of his mouth and gave off the impression of being a stereotypical hired gun, though maybe a little more charismatic.

“Well, to be honest, Jeric,” the woman said bitingly, turning toward the Rodian, “you’re next to useless if there’s any trouble.” She had dark hair and pale blue eyes, and she was obviously the leader of this crew just by the way she carried herself.

“Hey!” the Rodian said, sounding wounded as the Duros let out a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t be laughing too much, Xerge,” the woman rounded on the Duros. “You’re only slightly more useful. Not to mention the fact that you can’t seem to talk your way out of a wool sack.”

“Hey now, it’s not my fault that last job went south,” the Duros said. “Those Dugs were going to double-cross us from the get-go.”

“You’re absolutely right,” the woman said sarcastically sweet. “But you could’ve at least tried to help me try to talk ourselves out of that firefight. The least you could’ve done was take a few more out than you did.”

The Rodian laughed nervously.

“And you were too busy hiding behind the shipment, Jeric. I have no idea why you’re laughing,” the woman said.

“I was helping A4-SM get the shipment back on board, I swear!” the Rodian said in protest.

“Yeah, right,” the woman snapped. “That reprogrammed enforcer droid really needed your help, didn’t he? Listen, it doesn’t matter now. We made it out with the shipment and our lives; that’s what counts. But that was a little too hairy for my tastes, so that’s why we’re gonna need another hand. Look, I know that’s one more cut of the share, but I’d rather do that than risk being outgunned like that again. Next time, we may not be so lucky.”

“Ah, you’re right,” said the Duros. “As much as I like money, I think I enjoy living a little more.”

“That’s the spirit,” said the woman. “Now, we better get back to the ship. You know how A4 gets if he’s left alone for too long.”

Dax watched the group as they left the crowded cantina while he emptied the rest of his drink, feeling slightly buzzed. He saw the server droid start to wheel itself over to him, as if it knew he wanted another drink, but he waved the droid away. The droid stopped abruptly and studied him for a moment before wheeling in another direction to serve a different patron.

Dax sat quietly for a moment before lifting himself from the booth, walking towards the bar, and tossing his credits to the barkeep.

“Same time tomorrow, friend?” the barkeep asked cheerfully.

“Yeah. Same time tomorrow,” Dax replied slowly.

* * *

As he took another healthy swig of Corellian whiskey, Dax sat on his bed as the viewscreen chattered. He was a little too inebriated to make out what they were saying on the Holonet. Besides, he was still thinking about the conversations he had heard earlier in the cantina. Hearing about Jedha had opened up another wound. Regardless of how much he wanted to put his life as a Jedi padawan behind him, he couldn’t escape those memories. And all they brought were pain and hopelessness.

He turned his mind to the conversation between the Rodian, the Duros, and the woman with the curious accent. Maybe this could be his ticket off Delphon? He had spent long enough on this planet, and if he spent much longer here, people might start to get too familiar. The barkeep already knew his face and what times he would be at the cantina. That in itself was a little too close for comfort.

And sure, if he signed up with this crew, he might have to spend time with these people, but what if he could arrange transport to another system in exchange for helping them out with a job or two? But then again, he risked someone getting too familiar and in an even more confined space. He didn’t know what kind of ship that crew was even on. What if it was really small? Would he risk that much exposure to others? On the other hand, maybe they were on something bigger? Either way, it was a risk – one he would have to weigh if he wanted to get off planet soon.

 _I’ll have to sleep on it_ , he thought.

 _Yeah, but you can’t sleep on it for long. They may be out of the system before long_ , said a gnawing voice in the back of his head.

“Trust in the Force, my padawan,” a voice called out to him.

Dax’s glass shattered on the floor. His eyes opened wide as he looked frantically around the room. For a moment, he thought he had seen a ghost. He shook himself out of the initial panic and took several deep breaths. He had heard that voice and seen that figure so many times in his dreams, but somehow this seems more visceral. More real.

“You’re going mad,” he said to himself. “Maybe I shouldn’t mix a few Outer Rims with this Corellian swill any more. This stuff is freighter fuel anyway.”

He had dozed off while thinking about Jedha. That’s what it was. It had to be. There was no other explanation for it.

But somehow, Dax didn’t feel like he had been asleep at all. And that’s what worried him.

 _This is stupid_ , he thought to himself as he finished cleaning the broken glass from the floor and prepared to pour himself another glass of whiskey. _There are no such things as ghosts. It was only a bad dream. That’s all._

He quickly emptied his glass in one gulp and poured another. He was going to make sure tonight would be a dreamless sleep, even if it meant blacking out and paying the consequences in the morning.


	2. Dume

“Good morning, Delphon City! And what a glorious day for our Empire,” an extremely cheerful voice said as the viewscreen began to illuminate Dax’s apartment. “Today, you can expect another beautiful day in the city with mostly clear skies and only a 10 percent chance of rain. Temperatures are moderate again today much like they have been the past few weeks.”

“In galactic news, Capital City on Lothal was rocked by a massive fuel depot explosion,” another voice said. “Imperial authorities say that a fuel pod became unstable and ignited, causing a chain of explosions that ultimately destroyed the entire depot. It is not yet clear to authorities what caused the fuel pod to become unstable, but foul play is not suspected at this time.

“In other news, skirmishes between Imperial forces and rebel dissidents continue to plague Jedha City. The Imperial Security Bureau has issued a statement saying these rebels have adopted the tactic of taking over the dwellings of local inhabitants in order to stage surprise attacks on Imperial forces on patrol.

“Still, ISB officials claim these attacks have little to no effect on Imperial operations in the city and encourage anyone who may have information on the identity or whereabouts of any dissidents to contact authorities immediately.”

“You know, these rebels may be few in number, but they are ruthless killers,” said the first voice. “One can only hope that the boys in white can flush them out as soon as possible, as I’m sure they will.”

“Right, you are,” the second voice said. “Nothing will stand in the way between the brave soldiers of the Empire and victory – especially a few lawless terrorists such as these degenerates.”

“Guess that Ardennian was right,” Dax said as he shut off the viewscreen and got out of bed.

The first story struck him as odd though – more so than the usual Imperial propaganda. He didn’t know what it was, but something seemed off about it. Something seemed like it was missing. It was a persisting feeling.

Still, this is the Imperial Holonet. Sure, there are plenty of rubes that believe every word the Empire tells them – far more are too scared to doubt those words – but Dax knew better. He put it out of his mind as he walked out the door for another day at the docks of Delphon City Spaceport.

* * *

“That’s the third time this week you’ve been late, street rat,” the Toydarian supervisor snapped as Dax entered the docking bay. “I’m warning you! If it happens again, I’ll be reporting you, and you’ll be out of a job!”

“What are you talking about?” Dax asked sharply. “If I’m not mistaken, the shift doesn’t start for another five minutes. I’m early as requested.”

The Toydarian’s eyes narrowed. “Get to work, street rat,” he replied, knowing he had no real response.

Dax shook his head and walked away with a satisfied smirk. He tried his best not to bring attention to himself, but this Toydarian seemed to have it out for him. Still, Dax told himself that the Toydarian hated everyone that worked under his charge; Dax just happened to be the target of his misplaced anger as of late.

The shift progressed in relative ease – as smooth as a normal shift could be. As he’d done for the past few weeks, Dax scanned the area looking for the woman, the Duros, and the Rodian he had seen at the cantina during the time between loading and unloading shipments. So far, he hadn’t had any luck spotting them, but maybe his luck would change today?

 _Why am I even bothering?_ he thought. _It’s been weeks, and they haven’t even been to the cantina. They probably left Delphon a long time ago. I don’t know why I even considered it._

He did notice an unusual number of stormtrooper patrols at the docks today. The Imperials always kept relatively tight security at the spaceport, given the amount of trade goods that came through. But there was a fair few more patrols than usual today. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one that noticed either.

“Hey, what’s with the extra patrols?” he heard one of the other dock workers ask.

“None of your business,” the Toydarian shouted. “Now, get back to work!”

“I overheard an officer at the cantina say something about how Lothal was being attacked by a Rebel fleet,” another worker said. “He seemed pretty spooked. Said the Empire was stepping up security across the Outer Rim.”

“You don’t get paid to hear things, street rat,” the Toydarian spat. “You don’t get paid to speak either. Now, get back to work!”

“We barely get paid at all,” the worker muttered. But it was loud enough.

The entire docking bay fell silent for a moment.

“What did you just say? What did you say to me?!” the Toydarian asked with increasing volume.

“Nothing, sir,” the worker said nervously. “It was nothing.”

The Toydarian’s eye twitched with anger. “That’s what I thought you said, street rat! And just to drive the point home, I think you should stay over this afternoon. You’ve been slacking. Also, why don’t you come in early tomorrow? It might change my mind about reporting you.”

“Yeah, that sounds good, boss,” the frightened worker said.

“Does anybody have anything else to say?” the Toydarian rounded on the rest of the crew. “Maybe you’d like to join your comrade on extra duty?”

Still, the docking bay was silent.

“No? Then get back to work! And don’t let me catch you chit-chatting,” he spat.

Slowly, the rest of the crew went back to what they were doing.

Dax knew this wasn’t right. He knew that someone should stand up to the supervisor. But, like standing up to the Empire, what good would it do? There was no point in going over the supervisor because those who were higher up the chain of command were just as bad if not worse. These people didn’t care about the workers doing the leg work. Their only concern was how much profit was involved. And even if the grunts did complain, they would just be replaced with people who wouldn’t. Much like everything else, it was a hopeless situation.

The shift horn could not have come soon enough. As he walked past the docking bay doors, Dax looked back to see the frantic worker still loading crates onto a freight hauler as the Toydarian watched with an evil grin on his face.

* * *

Dax found his way to his normal booth at the cantina and plopped down into the seat. He ran his fingers through his long, black hair, sweeping it out of his eyes and exhaled a sigh of relief as he saw the server droid wheel its way over.

“What’ll it be tonight, sweetie?” the server droid asked calmly.

“Corellian whiskey if you’ve got it,” Dax said flatly.

“Of course,” the droid said as it wheeled away.

Moments later, Dax found himself listening to the chatter around the bar while he nursed his whiskey as he often did. As he scanned the room, he noticed a few Imperial officers huddled together close to the bar, but he was too far away to tell what they were discussing. They did seem even more stiff than Imperial officers usually were.

“Hey, did you hear about Lothal?” Dax overheard a man saying a few tables away.

“Yeah. Crazy what happened to that fuel depot, right?” said a Gran sitting opposite the man.

“Oh, there’s a lot more to it, my friend,” said the man. “That fuel depot was no accident. Word on the street is that the Empire destroyed it themselves.”

“Really?” the Gran asked, sounding shocked. Dax noticed one of the Imperial officers turn his ear toward the conversation.

“Oh, yeah. I heard that it was none other than Governor Pryce that gave the order,” the man continued. “Apparently, they were trying to prevent some really important prisoner from escaping – someone who’s connected to the rebellion.”

“The rebellion?!” the Gran said. “You know that’s crazy talk, right?”

“I’m telling you,” the man said, “it’s no rumor. These Imperials are trying to keep it hush-hush. They’re scared.”

“You’re out of your mind,” the Gran said. “There are a few rebel dissidents here and there, sure, but an organized rebellion? No one in their right mind would try to overthrow the Emperor.”

“So, you think that it was an accident? An entire fuel depot just up and exploded, right?” the man asked. “I’m telling you – the Empire is trying to cover it up. Fuel pods don’t just become unstable and explode. They’ve got the entire planet on lockdown. No one is allowed on or off planet. It’s a complete blockade.”

“And how do you know that?” the Gran asked with his eye stalks raised.

“Because my crew was supposed to make a stop on Lothal for supplies, but we were diverted as we entered the system,” the man said, leaning forward. “And I have never seen so many Star Destroyers in my life.”

“And how do you know that there’s a rebellion?” the Gran asked, sounding increasingly skeptical.

“Because,” the man said, checking over his shoulders for anyone listening his way, “my crew also sold them some supplies.”

“You’re joking,” the Gran said, sounding nervous.

“I’m not. They’re the real deal,” the man said. “Look, my crew does business with whoever’s paying. We do plenty of business with the Empire, but if we can make a few credits working with the rebellion, then we’ll do it. And unlike the Empire, these rebels are negotiable on price.”

Dax saw the Imperial officer turn his ear back to his table. _How could that moron be so careless?_ he thought as he started on his second Corellian whiskey.

At that moment, Dax saw the dock worker that was assigned extra duty slowly walk into the cantina and collapse into a booth near the door. It had been about three hours since their shift ended, so he must have been exhausted, but it’s what you could expect if you were foolish enough to talk back to a supervisor at the spaceport. And it didn’t look like this guy’s luck was going to change.

Almost as quickly as he had sat down, one of the Imperial officers from the other table had gotten up to meet him. Two stormtroopers that must have sat out of Dax’s sight joined the officer at the table. The troopers took the man by the arms, pulled him out of his seat, and dragged him out of the cantina.

“No, there must be some mistake! I haven’t done anything, I swear,” the man repeatedly screamed as the troopers escorted him from the building with the officer close behind. The usually lively, loud cantina came to a dull mumble as the scene played out. Not an eye in the building was focused on anything else. However, it’s not too unusual to see the Imperials drag someone out into the street to dispense “law and order,” so the crowd returned to their normal demeaner as soon as the commotion was over.

Dax sat quietly in the corner booth, sipping the sweet Corellian nectar, dulling his senses more and more until he finally felt numb enough to walk back to his apartment and drink himself to sleep. As he exited the cantina, he heard screams coming from the alleyway. Dax looked just in time to see the stormtroopers kicking the broken body of the dock worker they had so gracefully escorted from the bar earlier as the officer stood watching. As he walked back to his apartment, Dax could hear the man’s screams of pain for another block.

* * *

It was dark, but Dax could make out the figures of a man and a Twi’lek woman standing on top of a fuel pod. The Twi’lek was wearing prisoners’ attire, and it appeared as if the man had just helped her escape. As they reached the very top of the sphere, the Twi’lek woman stopped the man.

“Kanan, I know what to say now,” she said. “I love you.”

“Must be the truth serum talking,” the man replied.

“No. It’s me. All me,” the Twi’lek said.

The two embraced and kissed as an Imperial gunship closed in on the fuel pod. The gunship didn’t fire on the pair, however.

“Hey! Enough of that,” a friendly voice called from the interior of the gunship.

Just then, Dax’s point of view shifted, and he was inside an Imperial walker.

“Target that fuel pod! Now!” screamed a shrill woman in an officer’s uniform.

“But, sir, the fuel?” questioned the pilot.

“I gave you a direct order,” the officer said in a commanding tone.

Again, Dax was with the man and the Twi’lek, but this time, he had an overhead view. He watched as the Walker fired a single burst from its main weapon. The crew of the gunship watched at the shot from the walker hit the fuel pod, rocking the gunship as it hovered there.

The man shoved the Twi’lek woman into the gunship and raced back on top of the fuel pod. It was at that moment that the fuel pod erupted. Dax fully expected the explosion to destroy the gunship and everything in the surrounding area, but it didn’t.

Instead, Dax witnessed the man standing on the fuel pod seemingly pushing the open air with all his might. There was a wall of flame being held back from the gunship. This man was keeping the explosion completely contained!

The Twi’lek woman raced back onto the fuel pod from the gunship, screaming.

“Kanan!” she cried.

The man turned with one hand extended toward her, and she stopped, floating in midair. He turned his head to look at her and pushed her back into the gunship. Dax could see the man that the Twi’lek called Kanan more clearly now. His frosted green eyes became clear, and with one final push, he flung the gunship to safety as the fuel pod exploded in a brilliant flash of light that enveloped everything.

 _I must be dreaming_ , Dax thought, _but why am I not waking up?_

The blinding white light that surrounded him began to dim. Once his eyes adjusted, Dax knew exactly where he was… but how could this be?

Dax found himself in the courtyard of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. It was a clear, crisp morning. The courtyard was just about the only place on Coruscant that you couldn’t hear ships leaving or coming into the atmosphere or the constant droning of speeders that dominated the city planet’s airspace.

Dax stared around for a moment, drinking in the scenery. It had been more than 20 years since he had been here. It brought tears to his eyes.

It was then that he saw Master Depa Billaba walking across the courtyard with a young boy. Dax knew this had to be Billaba’s padawan.

“Quite extraordinary, what the youngling did, isn’t it?” said a familiar voice from beside Dax.

He turned to find himself standing face-to-face with Guil Kano.

“Master,” Dax said with a broken voice.

“To think, young Caleb Dume charged that Separatist saboteur without fear or hesitation,” Kano said. “Quite reckless... but brave, nonetheless. I suppose that’s why Master Billaba has taken a liking to him.”

Dax shut his eyes tight. They were burning with tears. He wanted desperately to wake up. But when he opened his eyes again, he was elsewhere once more.

It was dark again, but it was a clear night, and the stars shone brightly. Dax saw Master Billaba and her apprentice, Caleb Dume, talking with two clone troopers around a campfire. They seemed to be having a friendly debate, though Dax couldn’t make out what was being said. One of the clones walked away from the campfire as Billaba handed her padawan a Jedi holocron.

Dume fiddled with the holocron as Master Billaba meditated. She suddenly reached out to her padawan as the clones closed in on them. Dax tried to scream for them to run. He knew what was coming. But no sound came.

Billaba ordered the padawan to run, but he stood rooted to the spot as the clones began to open fire on them. Billaba drew her lightsaber, deflecting the incoming fire, hitting two of the clones. With a swift, fluid motion, Billaba decapitated another.

“Padawan!” Billaba yelled, “Run or fight. But do not just stand there.”

“What?” Dume replied. “Oh… Yes, Master.”

The pair stood together, deflecting the many blue blurs of light directed at them.

“Caleb, we cannot win this battle,” Billaba told her padawan. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”

Dume ran into the nearby woods, and Dax watched in horror as Billaba was surrounded by the clones and gunned down. As the Jedi master fell, Dax screamed as forcefully as he could. But again, no sound came.

The next thing he knew, Dax was standing in a quiet, open field on a warm, clear day. A ship he recognized as a VCX-100 lumbered slowly overheard and touched down several meters away. Once the boarding ramp had lowered, Dax saw the familiar figures of the Twi’lek woman and the man called Kanan walk off the ship. But Dax knew now that this man was Caleb Dume.

As Dax approached the ship, a boy, no older than 15, and a Lasat ran down the boarding ramp.

“So, when am I going to start my Jedi training, Kanan?” the boy asked.

“When you are ready,” Dume replied.

“But I’ve been ready,” the boy said, visibly irritated.

“And that is why you are not ready,” Dume said. “You need to learn patience.”

 _Why can’t I wake up?_ Dax thought. _Why is it that I’m stuck in this dream?_

At that moment, Caleb Dune turned to Dax and began to walk toward him. Dax was confused. Up to now, he had not been heard or even noticed by anyone.

“And you need to learn what it means to trust in the Force again,” Dume told Dax.

“You cannot run forever,” said the voice of Master Kano over Dax’s shoulder. “Trust in the Force, my padawan. It will guide you to where you are meant to be.”

“A Jedi, are you?” the voice of Grand Master Yoda called to Dax.

Dax whirled around to find where the voice was coming from, but it seemed to be coming from inside his head.

“No!” he shouted. “I’m no Jedi! I haven’t been for a long time.”

“So sure, are you?” Master Yoda asked.

“I have been on my own for 20 years,” Dax cried. “The Jedi are all dead. You’re all just memories – ghosts inside my head.”

“If a ghost, I am,” Yoda said, “how are we communing?”

The question stopped Dax in his tracks. “I want no part of this,” he said.

“Young Sha’dar,” Master Yoda said in a kindly voice. “Why else do we speak? Bruised, your faith may be, but gone, it is not.”

“What good is it?” Dax asked through tearful eyes. “What good is the Force? What good is hope?”

“When the time is right,” Yoda said, “you will know. Restored, your faith will be.”

“What do you mean?” Dax asked.

“Trials, I see ahead, young Sha’dar,” the wise old Jedi master said. “Tested, you will be. The lives of others – in your hands, they are. Only by trusting the will of the Force will you succeed.”

“Why are you speaking in riddles?!” Dax yelled. “What does any of this mean? Why am I here?!”

“Much fear and anger, I sense in you,” Yoda said. “Let go of the past, you must, or consume you, it will. In the present, you must dwell. Learn to let go.”

Again, Dax was enveloped in a blinding white light. When he could see again, he was back in his apartment, sitting on his bed with tears streaming down his face.


	3. Citizens of the Empire

“Good morning, Delphon City! And although the suns aren’t shining today, the forecast for our glorious Empire is still very bright,” said the overly optimistic presenter on the Imperial Holonet. “You can expect rain throughout the day and into the night. Temperatures have dropped by several degrees but still remain relatively moderate for this time of year.”

“In galactic news,” the second broadcaster started. But Dax shut off the viewscreen before another syllable was uttered. He hadn’t slept at all since waking up from the nightmare he had endured the previous night.

_Was it really a dream?_ he thought. _And if it was… why did it feel so real?_

He pulled himself from bed and walked to the mirror in the bathroom. For a long time, his bloodshot, amber eyes just stared back at him, still on the verge of tears.

_You’ve got to pull yourself together,_ he told himself. _You’ve had dreams like that before, and nothing has ever come of them. This is no different._

Still, his mind dwelled on the dream and Caleb Dume. He was a few years older than Dume, and they had had very little interaction together during their time as Jedi padawans because of the war. That was just the way it was back then.

Dax tried not to dwell on the fate of other Jedi after the purge, thinking that it might make him too vulnerable. The Empire would surely set a trap for any Jedi who hoped they could find fellow survivors. It was a matter of self-preservation. Still he couldn’t help but wonder at times what happened to the Jedi he looked up to the most.

He wondered what happened to Master Windu, who was so measured in his actions. Dax had seen Windu in action only once during the Clone Wars, but it left quite the impression on him. His abilities in the Force were only matched by his skills with a lightsaber.

Dax thought about Master Kenobi, who had always been so welcoming to him on the occasions they met. But there was a lot more to Kenobi than that. Beneath his warm and stately demeanor was a fierce fighter. It was said that Master Obi-wan had faced and defeated a Sith Lord in single combat as an apprentice. Dax didn’t know if the story was true, but he knew Kenobi was held in high regard by the rest of the Jedi council – with good reason.

For the first time in more than 20 years, Dax had heard the voice of Grand Master Yoda – the most highly regarded and well-liked member of the Order. Master Yoda was the wisest Jedi of at least an age, and he was personally involved in the training of all the younglings at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. What impressed Dax the most was that, even after several hundred years, Master Yoda never forgot a face.

Most of all, Dax wondered what happened to Anakin Skywalker. Skywalker had the reputation of being quite foolhardy in the Order, but having seen him in action, Dax knew Skywalker was what he aspired to be as a Jedi.

Anakin Skywalker was bold, brave, and fiercely loyal. His 501st was the fiercest fighting force in the Grand Army of the Republic. And Skywalker _cared_ for his men. His clones would follow him to hell and back – and often did. Of all the Jedi, Skywalker was the most openly compassionate, and that’s what Dax admired most.

He had always assumed that they had died in the purge or the weeks, months, and years that followed. But Master Yoda _spoke_ to him. Could he really still be out there? Could Skywalker?

_I can’t allow myself to think like this,_ Dax thought. _It’s been nearly 20 years. The odds are just too slim. And even if they had survived, the Empire would have hunted them down like all the rest. It was only a dream._

Dax splashed his face with water and did his best to bring himself to the present. This was ridiculous. It had been 19 years. If the Jedi Order had survived in any capacity… why now? Why would Yoda, who was probably dead, be reaching out to him of all people? He was just a padawan at the end of the war. It made no sense.

And why had he dreamed about Caleb Dume, a fellow padawan that he barely knew? If Dume had survived the purge and lived this long – which was unlikely – how could he have been stupid enough to get cornered by the Empire like he did in the dream? Dax figured anyone who had survived the purge this long would’ve learned self-preservation as he did. None of it added up.

* * *

It was a good thing today was Dax’s one day off; he didn’t leave his apartment until almost noon. But even though he had the day off, something told him it was a good idea to pay a visit to the spaceport anyway.

As Dax walked through the spaceport, he scanned for the woman, the Duros, and the Rodian. He checked each docking bay as he walked by, but the usual loading crews and freighters were all that he found. _What a waste of time,_ he thought. _I could actually be doing something productive, like going to the market or the cantina._

He decided the local market would be his best bet – it was another obvious spot to hear the latest gossip from merchants, traders, and freighter pilots. He also needed another bottle or two of the Corellian whiskey he was fond of.

As he approached the market square, Dax noticed a large crowd gathering around a raised platform with an ISB agent, an Imperial officer, a squad of stormtroopers and what looked like five prisoners who were badly beaten. As Dax reached the platform, the ISB agent began to address the crowd.

“Good evening, citizens of the Empire. My name is Agent Lucian Merrick of the Imperial Security Bureau,” he said. “Before you stand five self-professed rebel insurgents.”

Dax noticed one of the prisoners was the dock worker that had been beaten at the cantina the night before. He recognized two more prisoners as the man who had talked about selling goods to the Rebellion and the Gran that he had told.

“These traitors to our Empire have confessed to the crime of conspiring to insight rebellion on Delphon,” said the ISB agent to gasps and whispers among the crowd. “Together, these criminals planned to create mass panic by attacking citizens in the name of our Emperor and poison the minds of fellow citizens by circulating rebel propaganda.

“Rest assured, citizens. The Imperial Security Bureau acted swiftly upon receiving several anonymous tips from a few courageous citizens just like you. Your loyalty is greatly appreciated.”

The stormtroopers took positions in front of the five prisoners, blaster rifles at the ready.

The ISB agent turned and nodded to the officer, and the officer stepped forward.

“Troopers, ready!” the officer yelled, and the stormtroopers took aim at the prisoners who screamed in protest. “Fire!”

In the blink of an eye, the stormtroopers opened fire, and the prisoners dropped to the floor of the platform. There were gasps and screams of terror in the gathered crowd.

“Let this serve as a lesson to any who would threaten the peace and security of our Empire,” Agent Merrick said as the crowd fell silent. “Rebellion will not be tolerated. It will be sought out and eradicated.”

At that, Merrick, the Imperial officer, and the stormtroopers filed off the platform, leaving the prisoners for all the square to see, blaster wounds still smoldering.

* * *

After what he had seen in the market, Dax couldn’t focus on the chatter about the crowded square. He was too deeply disturbed by the Empire’s show of cruelty to even buy what he had come for in the first place.

He wouldn’t have missed much; it seemed like the entire market square was also in a state of shock and horror. This was the fear and despair that the Empire counted on for people to be “good citizens.” Who would dare stand up to a power that would make a show of force that cruel? There was no hope.

Paying little attention to his surroundings or those around him as if he were on autopilot, Dax walked from the market to the cantina. He found his way to his usual spot – the corner booth in the back of the crowded bar. But today, there were people sitting there. As he passed the booth, he used his peripheral vision to see who was preoccupying the booth and was surprised to find the Rodian and Duros he had been looking for weeks. Dax decided to take the booth adjoining the corner with his back to them so that he could listen in.

“We’ve been waiting here too long,” said the Duros. “Something’s wrong. We need to go find Jade.”

“Now, just calm down, Xerge,” said the Rodian. “She said she’s meet us here after she was finished the market. It takes time to find the goods we need. I’m sure she’s perfectly fine.”

_So, her name is Jade,_ Dax thought.

After about half an hour of patiently listening to the two as he nursed a particularly healthy pour of Corellian whiskey that the server droid had brought him, Dax saw the woman they called Jade walk into the cantina. As she made her way to the corner booth, Dax noticed her eyes shift around the bar.

“Well, looks like we’re back to square one, boys,” she said exasperatedly.

“What do you mean?” asked the Duros.

“I mean the guy we just hired on to be our new crewmember just got executed in the square by the Empire,” Jade said as she flagged down the server droid.

“You have got to be kidding,” the Duros said.

“I wish I were,” Jade said. “Three Corellian whiskeys,” she told the server droid.

“Wait, can I get –” the Rodian said to the server droid.

“Are you buying?” Jade interrupted in anger.

“No,” the Rodian hesitated.

“Okay,” Jade said. “Three Corellian whiskeys,” she told the server droid a second time. “If you don’t want it, I’ll drink it for you,” she told the Rodian.

“So, how did this guy get fried by the Empire?” the Duros asked.

“Well, the ISB agent in charge said that he was part of a rebel cell trying to cause trouble on Delphon,” Jade said. “So, he probably just said the wrong thing in front of the wrong people.”

“Kriff,” the Duros muttered. “So, that’s that. We’ve got to keep looking for an extra body, don’t we?”

“That’s right,” said Jade. “Maybe this guy right here knows something.”

As he raised his glass for another sip, Dax felt the barrel of a blaster pistol pressed between his shoulder blades and heard the safety switch click. He coolly lowered his glass to the table, not saying a word.

“You know, you’re pretty good at listening to people without them knowing,” the woman said. “But I’m pretty good at noticing when people are listening to me.”

“Listening is how you learn,” Dax said calmly, still facing forward. “I know your name is Jade, the Duros is Xerge, and the Rodian is Jeric. I also know you’re having a rough time looking for an extra hand since the one you just hired was one of the poor souls that was executed in the market square today.”

“See, the market is where I first noticed you,” Jade said. “I noticed that you didn’t do any trading there. I go about my business in the market only to come back here and catch your eye as I walk in. And you’re in the booth right next to my crew? That’s a little too suspicious for my liking. So, either this is just a really terrible coincidence or you’re a really terrible Imperial spy.”

Dax chuckled at that.

“You find this funny? Because I sure don’t,” Jade said. “And if I were you, I’d start talking before the crazy lady with a gun to my back gets an itchy trigger finger.”

“Lady, there are plenty of Imperial citizens in this establishment that would gladly turn you over just for associating with that dead man,” Dax said, “but I’m not one of them. I want off this rock at the first opportunity.”

“Oh, yeah? And how do I know you’re telling the truth?” Jade asked, pressing the blaster slightly harder against Dax’s back.

“Let’s just say I don’t make a habit of staying in one place for too long, and I’ve been on Delphon for long enough.”

“So, you’re on the run?” Jade asked. “Then why shouldn’t I turn you over to the Empire myself? It might show them that I’m not a rebel, and me and my crew might just be able to go about our business without them breathing down our necks.”

“It’s not like that at all,” Dax said calmly. “I work in the docking bays at the spaceport. Out in the open. Surrounded by Imperial patrols. You think I would have a job like that if I were really on the run?”

“That’s a fair point, stranger,” Jade said, still pointing the blaster into Dax’s back. “Surely, you know your way around precious cargo, but have you ever worked with a freighter crew before?”

“I prefer to have my feet on solid ground to be honest with you,” Dax said as he took a sip of his drink, “but I’m able to adapt – especially if it means leaving Delphon.”

There was a pause. Dax then heard the safety switch on the blaster click again, and the pressure against his back was relieved.

“Come sit with us,” Jade said, and Dax moved to the corner booth with the group.

The woman stared at him through pale blue eyes. “The name’s Jade. Jade Fass.”

“Pleasure,” Dax said. “Val Anduli.” This was the alias he had lived under for the last 15 years. It was another way of keeping the Empire off his trail.

“Okay, Val. You’ve peaked my interest,” Jade said. “Before we go any further, is there anything you’d like to tell me that could jeopardize my crew, my ship, or our cargo – like, say, being in league with the rebellion?”

“What’s the point in that?” Dax asked honestly.

“You say that, but clearly I need to start asking before I hire on any new crewmembers,” Jade said.

“Fair enough,” Dax replied.

“Here’s what I’m thinking, Val,” Jade said. “We need an extra hand on our ship, and you need a way off this planet. Maybe we can make an arrangement that’s mutually beneficial.”

“I’m listening,” Dax said.

“Here’s the deal,” she said. “For the time being, our crew is still doing jobs in this system because it pays, but we don’t plan on staying here for long. We’re still figuring out where we’ll go next, but if you agreed to work with us until we make our move, I will guarantee you passage to that system. And if you decide to stay on with us, you’re more than welcome to do that too.”

Dax didn’t like the idea of not knowing what system this crew would be moving to next, but when might he get an opportunity like this again? “Is it okay if I sleep on it?” he asked.

“That’s a reasonable request. After all, I did just have you at gunpoint,” Jade said with a slight grin. “Fine. Where can I find you?”

“I work at the spaceport docks, so you can find me there during the day. Otherwise, I’ll be here after my shift. I don’t expect to stay employed long if I tell them I’m accepting another job.”

“Great. Same place tomorrow then,” Jade said as she slid the untouched glass of Corellian whiskey towards Dax.

Jade and her crewmates then slid out of the booth and walked towards the cantina doors.

“She’s not always this intense during a job interview, so I’d take that as a compliment,” the Duros said as he passed Dax. “The name is Xerge, by the way. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other soon.”

* * *

“Good morning, Delphon City! And what a glorious day it is for our Empire,” said that familiar, overly cheerful voice of the Holonet news anchor as the viewscreen in Dax’s apartment crackled to life. “The weather from yesterday has thankfully cleared, and you can expect a nice, cool day in the suns today.”

“In Galactic news, Imperial authorities are advising travelers to steer clear of the Lothal system,” the other anchor said. “Rebel dissidents with connections to the terrorist Saw Gerrara were found responsible with the fuel depot explosion that devastated Capitol City earlier this week, and Imperial forces have been called in to quell unrest in the system.

“The Imperial Security Bureau stated that these terrorists will be dealt with swiftly and that Imperial citizens should stay vigilant for activities they deem suspicious. These dissidents are armed and extremely dangerous and will stop at nothing to sow fear and chaos among the great citizens of our glorious Empire.”

Trying not to think about his dream about Caleb Dume, Dax shut off the viewscreen and got up from his bed. He was fairly certain when he told his supervisor that he was quitting that the Toydarian would fire him on the spot, so he planned to do it at the end of the shift so he could at least collect the day’s wages. He couldn’t help but be a little bit excited to see the look on that miserable little man’s face when he found out.

The walk to the spaceport from Dax’s apartment seemed to be quitter than usual – not in a bad way. It felt serene, peaceful. The suns were cresting over the vast grasslands outside the city, bathing the area in soft, warm light. For the first time in a long time, Dax felt a weight lifted from his spirit.

The Toydarian was somewhat surprised when Dax showed up a bit earlier than usual for his shift – but even more surprised that Dax was smiling. Honestly, Dax was, too. He hadn’t genuinely smiled in a long time. But the thought of getting off of Delphon after more than a year was too sweet.

The shift went by without a hitch. Dax loaded and unloaded freight haulers quietly, without complaint. The Toydarian even kept the yelling to a minimum. It was honestly the best day Dax had had while working at the spaceport. He couldn’t resist a grin when the long, low tone of the shift horn sounded.

“You! Street rat,” the Toydarian yelled when he saw Dax’s demeanor. “What’s with all the smiles today?”

“Just a good day is all,” Dax replied coyly.

“Oh, is that so?” the Toydarian asked in a tone of suspicion. “Fine. Carry on.”

“Well, there is something that I needed to talk to you about, actually,” Dax said, fighting the urge to smirk.

“Oh?” the Toydarian said, brow raised. “And what might that be, street rat?”

“I’m going to have to put in my notice,” Dax said, feigning disappointment. “I’ve been approached for a job with a freighter crew, and I’ve decided to take it.”

“Fine… Collect your day’s wages, but don’t bother showing up tomorrow,” the Toydarian said, fuming. “I only wish you would have told me sooner so we wouldn’t be wasting each other’s time now. Now, go. Get out of my sight.”

“It’s been a pleasure, sir,” Dax said. He could feel the Toydarian’s stare burning through the back of his head as he walked away, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he left the docking bay for the last time as an employee.

As Dax walked through the entrance of the cantina a short time later, he scanned the crowded bar for Jade and her crew. Sure enough, she was sitting in the corner booth, sipping Corellian whiskey, her eyes trained on Dax.

“There you are,” she called to him as he approached the booth. “So, you’ve thought about our arrangement?”

“Well, as of this afternoon, I’m no longer working at the spaceport,” Dax said. “So, if you’ll have me, I can start at the earliest opportunity.”

“Fantastic,” Jade said. “Then let’s drink on it.”

“I have to admit, I don’t think I’ve ever closed a business deal with a drink,” Dax said with a grin.

“Nonsense,” Jade laughed. “I always mix business with pleasure when I can.”

The server droid wheeled over to Dax and sat a glass of Corellian whiskey in front of him. He nodded his appreciation to the droid and raised his glass towards Jade. “To new partners,” he said.

“To new partners,” she replied, clinking her glass against Dax’s.


End file.
